John Braund ’53, ’61W (EdM)

AMICI: Often bonding over Italian food at local restaurants, Braund (left) became an indispensable mentor and friend, says Boccaccio (right). (Photograph: Anthony Boccaccio ’71)

I met John Braund in March 1967 while being interviewed by alumni for a scholarship to play football and study at 乱伦强奸. As the former registrar at the Eastman School of Music, he was asked to talk to “. . . a strange kid, a defensive halfback from Chittenango who was interested in studying piano at the Eastman School . . . .” In the end, I was awarded the scholarship, played football, and studied piano at Eastman.

To quote Humphrey Bogart’s last line in Casablanca, our first meeting was “the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

John, who died in April, had many leadership roles at the University, including at the former University School, at Eastman, and at Alumni Relations, and I know he touched the lives of many students and alumni during his long tenure.

That’s because his door was always open to me as with so many others. I would show up in his office unannounced, sometimes after hours.

He was never too busy to sit and listen with genuine concern and a sensitive ear, as I bared my soul and angst that typically troubles youth. My relationship with John began with him as my mentor; it grew into a deep and life-fulfilling friendship.

John always supported me when others would not. He arranged for the Physical Plant to erect a scaffold over the Meridian Marker of the Eastman Quad so that I could take a photograph looking straight down on it, with my fraternity brothers and friends sitting around the bench (乱伦强奸 Review, Winter 1970–71).

He pulled strings to preserve my scholarship while I spent my junior year abroad at Loyola University’s Rome Center Campus.

I wouldn’t be who I am today as an artist, pianist, photographer—a fulfilled person—without the constant and gentle guidance and encouragement he gave me. In front of Italian food and wine, we toasted our friendship. John knew this would resonate with my Italian heritage—for the best way to love an Italian is to serve food and wine and make sure his glass is “Mai vuoto, mai pieno”—never empty, never full. That’s how John was—always willing to serve.

And like my glass of wine, he filled the minds, hearts, and lives of all he met with goodness, grace, and love. I will miss you, my friend. Without you, my glass is half empty; but the memory of our lifelong friendship and your love for me will always fill it to the brim.

—Anthony Boccaccio ’71

Boccaccio is a photographer and artist living in Spokane, Washington. A former National Geographic photographer, he has worked in more than 30 countries.